A Life Thought Forgotten

Nathan Koniec, or as he is known by some from a previous life, Jack Deckard.

A man of average stature, but with an imposing, heavy build. Pale teal eyes, contradicting his brown hair. However, tasteful points and rare streaks of grey began to show themselves. These now visible as he had allowed the strands to grow to reaching the bottom of his jaw and the ability to tie into a pony tail. His facial hair had also grown, a long stubble fully covering his face. The previously mentioned grey much more visible within it, specifically near the back of his jaw. His skin, Caucasian with an average tan, was blemished by multiple scars. A majority hidden from view. The one with most significance to him, were five large claw marks that ran across his back from his left shoulder blade to the right hip. A constant reminder of what the man had done in the past.

He had four tattoos; one having been added in recent years. Three beneath his clothing: A bold Semper Fifrom shoulder blade to shoulder blade. The Royal Marines sigil on his right pectoral. A scared, snarling wolf looking at the viewer upon the left. Each signifying different phases in his life, and the fourth addition was no different. The new one ebbed into his skin was of six roses whose stem wrapped around his left forearm. The flowers themselves being a mixture of red and cobalt in color. All positioned right below his inner elbow and stopping just a few inches from his wrist. If one had a keen enough eye, you could read the name Olivia, a letter for the name on each rose; that of his lover.

He was dressed in a form fitting polyester shirt, this one being a dark blue. Dark brown tactical pants combined with a black rigger belt. His hiking shoes having been replaced with hiking boots with the same color scheme as the previous footwear. Finally, his light brown leather jacket, the same his previous lover and commanding officer had given to him years ago. A gift of neutral appearance to help him take his first steps into the life she wanted for him.

One that no longer involved the military or violence.

This is the man we have come upon.

A man whose past he thought he had left behind.

That he had finally escaped.

But that was far from the truth.

Nathan sat in the office that belonged to the building known for being the headquarters of MI6. Though his face portrayed a look of neutrality, his eyes conveyed an unyielding fury. Fists tightly clenched, all the while straining against the pair of handcuffs around his wrists.

For an hour he had been sitting in an interview room, his face contorted in a look of seething rage. And another hour before that, he was in his house, making breakfast like he usually did the morning…

Standing above the stove, Nathan, dressed in a pair of shorts and t-shirt carefully moved the eggs in the pan. The smell of their flavor wafting to his nose. All the while, Olivia, a pair of shorts and hoodie, was on her laptop, the sound of the keys clacking away as she worked on whatever it was, she was on.

Glancing back to her, he noticed how her ears flicked to the sound of the spathulate and sizzling of the eggs. A smile forming on the man's lips, only for it to fade when the sound of knocking came from his door.

"Can you get that, baby?" Nathan asked, as he began to transfer an egg to one of two plates. A hum was given in response, followed by the sound of footsteps.

A second later,

"Nathan…" Something in her voice didn't seem right. A certain tone he hadn't heard in a long time. Worry.

"Yeah?"

"Come here please." Carefully placing everything down, he turned. Doing so, he saw two men standing at his door. Suits and sunglasses, both matching in color and style.

"Nathan Koniec?" One said, when the man in question got to Olivia.

"Yeah?"

"Olivia Rose?" The same said.

"Yes?"

"You both need to come with us."

"Reason being?" Nathan asked, all the while, a familiar tensing of his body began to form. One he had felt in a long time.

"You have been found in violation of the Cultural Exchange Between Species Bill. Specifically, sexual contact with the Extra-Species under your charge." Olivia and Nathan froze in their place. And despite the fact that the man continued to speak, for both, nothing could be heard but a loud ringing. Their hearts having shot to an accelerated pace. All the while, holding onto one of each other's hand; squeezing with all their strength.

"Do you understand?" The man finished, snapping both back into reality. But neither spoke for a full minute. It wasn't until a second had passed, that Nathan finally spoke.

"I do. Are we allowed to get dressed?" The two men glanced to each other.

"You may. But one of you must stay here while the other gets dressed." Nathan squeezed Olivia's hand, she doing the same back, before he slowly let go of her hand and allowed her to go first.

After both had done so, the four got into a car that sat just outside the pair's home and were driven to the MI6 building. The structure giving off a foreboding sense to both the man and kobold as they stared up at it. After exiting the car, the two were escorted inside and were promptly separated. Despite the fact Nathan wanted to fight tooth and nail, kicking and screaming to be with her; something inside him told him not to. Maybe it was the fact that it seemed as though every set of eyes were upon him, and only him. As if they were waiting for him to try something.

He remembered how, as the two were turned in opposite directions, he looked into Olivia's eyes for as long as he could. And within them, he saw a look that flashed him back to a certain night five years ago. A night he always hated remembering.

When she was gone from sight, the rest became a blur. It wasn't until he felt the cold steel of the handcuffs on his flesh that he began to take note of his surroundings. He went to ask what was happening, but wasn't fast enough, before the door to the room closed shut.

And so, here he sat and waited. At first, patiently. But as the second and minutes slowly ticked by, he began to feel a familiar flame rise within him. Again, one he hadn't felt in five years.

Soon, he was straining against the cuffs, all the while gritting his teeth behind closed lips. His eyes scanned the room, looking for something and anything to give him a point of weakness or object of use. But just as he should have expected, the room was barren, save for the two chairs and table. The three of which, were bolted to the floor.

It was then he began to try and recall each and every day that passed by. Every interaction he and Olivia shared in public. He couldn't think of anything he would have done that would be ground of violating the bill. The only time he did that was behind closed doors at his own home. And there's no way anyone would be able to see them in there. The few windows it had, always had their blinds drew when it started to get dark. Plus, he ensured the windows were reflective during daylight hours.

So how could they claim he violated the bill if they had no proof?

This was when his rage truly started to rise. His heart increasing in beat and the familiar warmth spreading throughout his body.

Then, the door opened and a familiar face walked in, Smith. Wearing her usual suit and sunglasses.

"Why am I not surprised?" Nathan asked, letting out an aggravated breath.

"Nathan, I know what you're thinking, but I swear, it's not." The man only stared; his teal orbs cold.

"Really? So, please, shed some light on the meaning of this…" Nathan motioned to the handcuffs, the objects links dragging along the table. Smith waited a beat, before answering slowly,

"I don't know…" Slowly lowering his hands, Nathan took a deep breath and remained silent for many moments.

"I see… Have you seen Olivia?" The G-Woman nodded.

"She's fine. They're keeping her in a waiting room. Nothing like this." Nathan felt a small semblance of peace fill his mind.

There's that, at least.

The door opened again, entering this time, was Anderson; Smith's trainee. He nods to both before motioning with his head to the portal before quickly standing behind the woman. Soon following, are two men of older age.

Smith stands for one, the shorter of the two, balding with a thick mustache to sit down; placing a folder on the table. Both, Smith and Anderson move to either side of the table. All the while, the other, taller, head closely shaved with a slight stubble on his face, stands where Anderson just did; two folders in hand.

The one sitting before Nathan stares into his eyes, before giving a faint smile,

"Do you know why you're here, lad?" The man's voice was deep with an accent that Nathan wanted to say was Scottish.

"For, supposedly, having sexual relations with my homestay."

"Correct. However, there is no 'supposedly'." Nathan snorted.

"And your proof of this?" This time, it was the man's turn before motioning to the other behind him, who placed his folder on the table.

Opening it, revealed multiple images of Nathan & Olivia's bedroom with the two engaging in sexual acts. However, these weren't through a window or anything of the sort. Instead, seemingly taken from a fly's point of view. Each photo at a different angle.

Nathan felt his heart rate rise a third time that day. Only now, was it the hardest he had felt in a long time. His hands strained against the steel of the cuffs, all the while, his breathing became heavy.

"How?" His voice was low and rough.

"You'd be surprised what the egg-heads have come up with the past few years." The one standing said, smile wide and full.

"You realize," Smith began, "Regardless of what is in those photos, what you've done is illegal." The older of the two looked to her, an expression of slight disbelief.

"You're joking, surely." She went to respond, only for the other to cut her off,

"Regardless of what you have to say, it won't help. Besides, that's just the tip of the ice berg, no?"

"Quite right," The older said, turning his attention to Nathan. "How often do you watch the news?"

"You already know, I'm sure." Nathan retorted, nodding towards the photographs.

"Then you know of the latest terrorist organization that has come into the world's eye recently." Nathan nodded. "They're known as Lazarus, presumably based off of the same from the bible."

"How so?"

"They want the world, in a sense, reborn." Nathan raised an eyebrow.

The taller of the two agents laid out his second and last folder, revealing multiple images of both human and extra-species dead. They varied in every sense of the word. Each one different in some way. But what held them in common, was a sign around their neck. The same phrase over and over, just in a different language, 'No. More. Co-Existence.'

Staring at the photographs, Nathan tilted his head ever so slightly. Taking in each detail he could.

"It seems, they want the world to be 'reborn' so it can be how it was before the bill was passed." Smith said, snapping Nathan from his trance. He looking to her for just a second.

"I see… Kind of ironic." He mumbled his last, looking to the two agents. "I can guess what you want me to do." The shorter of the two nodded.

"Indeed. We need you to hunt the leader down and, in the simplest of terms, kill him." He leaned in, voice lowering. "No bringing him in for questioning. No fancy World Court nonsense. Find him. Kill him."

"Essentially," The taller began, "Become an assassin again." He waited a beat, Nathan looking to him with narrowed eyes. "Or Hell Hound, if you prefer." Nathan looked to the agent, his neck tensing.

"And if I say no?"

"You'll be charged for a multitude of crimes."

"Such as?" Nathan asked, an oddly cocky smile on his face.

"Illegal immigration. Sex with and harming of Extra-Species. Assassination of political figures, to name a few. Even then, just those would land you the death penalty; and even if by some miracle you aren't given that, life in prison."

"You can't charge him with any of that," Smith began, tone tense. "Except for sex with an extra-species. And even then, the evidence you acquired was done illegally!"

"And 'illegal immigration' with 'assassination of political figures'? What shite is that?" Anderson asked, taking a step forward.

"You two are really defending him? You," He looked to Anderson, "I understand." Then to Smith. "You surprise me though, considering your reputation."

"Enough!" The older one ordered, before locking his eyes with Nathan. Brown orbs gazing into his own pale teal. "Let's show how much we known about that lad." Reaching for the folder that had yet to be opened this entire time, he looked down and finally did so; and after a few moments, began,

"Nathan. Koniec." The name was pronounced slow and methodical. "Also known as Jack Deckard." He paused, glancing to Nathan who widened his eyes just enough to make the man smile. "Born December 29th, 1985. Former U.S. & Royal Marine. Enlisted with the U.S. in 2003, before ending active service as a Corporal in 2007. Then, despite needing to be a citizen of the United Kingdom, which takes five years of living in to become, Joined the Royal Marines the same year. Following with ending that service as a Lance Corporal in 2011." The man paused. "Served multiple combat tours in the Middle East, obtaining multiple confirmed kills. As well as being awarded the appropriate awards for those specific deployments, most notable being a Purple Heart." He paused again, glancing to Smith this time, before continuing. "Was then seemingly silent for a few years, yet also kept in contact with Agent Smith. During so, multiple deaths of political figures, occurred." He looked back to Nathan. "Then, joined up with a rather notorious private military, World Resource Corps. Served under their employment, specifically in the 'Hell Hound' branch, for many years. Before abruptly ending your career there. Strangely, around the same time the CEO & founder was killed by a guard who, just days prior, was in a perfectly fine state of mental health." The man stopped, glancing up at Nathan, who had not moved a single muscle. "Quite a few coincidences, but stranger things have happened." He looked back to the folder. "Afterwards and presently, made a name for yourself selling novels; fiction, specifically. Under the pseudonym, Alex Rivers. All the while, working part time at Kobold Rose Fitness with your present homestay, Olivia Rose. Who, around five years ago, was kidnapped by a local gang of Orcs. Only for her to be saved in a rather violent and bloody rescue by a trio of men. Though, that's the rumor, anyway." The man went silent, glancing to Smith before going over the remainder of the folder in silence. It wasn't until a minute passed that he finally looked up, gazing into Nathan's teal orbs. "Does all that sound about right, lad?"

"Yeah." Nathan answered, before clearing his throat. "Right on the mark." With a smile, the man closed the folder, followed with bringing his hands together.

"Very good, then. Lads in intel still know how to do their jobs." The man finished his sentence with a chuckle, before his smile faded.

"Tell me, lad, just how much do you love that young girl?" Nathan didn't answer right away, glancing to the photos. "Well?" He looked up. Eyes intense.

"More than you'll ever know."

"Then you know what you have to do, if you want to see her again."

Nathan stared down at the photographs and files that were laid before him again. He knew he was going to have to say yes, regardless of the circumstance. The photographs and extensive file had him dead to rights. And even then, the words continued to echo within his mind,

War crimes.

Illegal immigration.

Sex with an Extra-Species.

Harming an Extra-Species.

Life in prison.

Death penalty.

Replaying over and over throughout his mind, and with each retelling, his rage only grew stronger. Already clenched fist becoming pure white.

"All right…" He said, letting out a sigh. "I'll do it." The seated agent nodded.

"Wonderful." He closed Nathan's file and stood up. "You made the right choice, lad. And I know you'll accomplish your mission with flying colors." He looked to the two Cultural Exchange agents. "You two will take it from here, yes?"

"What do you mean?" Anderson asked, with the taller agent answering,

"You'll be his intel supplier. You two are the ones with the most data, after all." He opened the door, motioning for someone outside, only for a guard to come in and uncuff Nathan. Then, with the two MI6 agents, left without saying a word.

"Well," Anderson began, "Shit…" He looked to Smith. "What now?" The G-Woman, who's eyes were fixed on the door, took a second to register the question.

"Only what we can do," She looked to her trainee. "Begin the tasks we've been given." She then looked to Nathan and called out his name. But nothing was given back. Even with his hands now unbound, he continually sat in the chair. His gaze focused solely upon the table where the files once sat.

His mind was going a mile a minute, thinking of any and everything that had just occurred in the past few minutes. Surely this was just a bad dream. He would wake up, Olivia in his arms and right it off as his imagination trying to tell him of another novel to make. But the sweat that was beginning to form and the race of his heart beat proved otherwise. Then, it was wondering what he could have done differently to somehow not have this be the outcome. Some minor thing that could have changed this entire day. Something, anything that could have ensured this never happened. But he knew deep down, nothing could. There was nothing he could have done, and he knew it within his bones. Finally, his mind came to one final notion, constantly replaying the same sentence over and over again,

"Essentially, become an assassin again. Or Hell Hound, if you prefer." Nathan knew the bastard was right. The life he thought he had left behind, had caught back up with him. And with this realization, slowly, he began to squeeze his fists, knuckles turning white. Teeth beginning to grit tightly, as his gums began crying out in agony as the seconds slowly ticked by. It had been years since he felt the rage that boiled within him now, and he hated every second of it. He tried to calm down, but nothing was working. His breathing was erratic, no matter how much he tried to bring it under control. His mind was focusing on the sentence and what it brought.

Then, with a cry that echoed throughout the room and hallway, he slammed his fists down onto the table. Pain shot through them, but that didn't change that he felt a semblance of relief from the violent action. His breathing had settled just enough for him to focus on the world around him, and with it, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

Looking to its owner, Smith came into view, a mixture of emotions written upon her features that he couldn't fully place. But, one he could make out was sympathy. He took a deep breath and finally stood.

"Right…" He said, before motioning to the door. "Lead the way, I guess…"